


scars and gentle words

by papercranium



Series: things that happened off the ground [1]
Category: The Goldfinch (2019), The Goldfinch - Donna Tartt
Genre: Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, It’s late and the boys are tired, Light Angst, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Pining, boris has sad backstory, catching feelings, kind of, no homo tho, this is sad I’m sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 04:01:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21155282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/papercranium/pseuds/papercranium
Summary: There was not a blemish to be seen, save for a small, thin line intersecting the blue vein between his elbow and his wrist—a single mark away from perfection.





	scars and gentle words

**Author's Note:**

> Hey uhhh this ones kinda darker than the others in this series and I’m sorry  
Pls pls pls take care of urselves
> 
> Anyways Theo is pining and Boris is sad  
Also this isn’t technically canon w the book but whatever

Theo and Boris sat shivering by the edge of the pool, jeans rolled up and feet dangling in the water.

The night lights gave the water an eerie, greenish glow that illuminated their tired faces. In all honesty, it was probably too cold to be out by the pool, but after both boys had heaved up their entire dinners—old nachos, cheap vodka, and Hershey’s kisses—out in the stuffy bathroom, they decided it was probably time for some fresh air.

Theo’s skull was throbbing lazily in time with his heartbeat, and he could faintly make out the noise of the television inside, which they had forgotten to turn off.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Boris roll up the sleeves of his black thermal and dip his fingers into the pool. Tiny ripples appeared as he absently danced his fingertips slowly across the water’s surface, and the frayed ends of his bracelets trailed along like a colorful afterthought.

The skin of his forearms was milky and pale, illuminated by the greenish glow of the pool lights. It looked like smooth, cool, masterfully-carved white marble, like artwork, like a sculpture at the museum Theo’s mother had taken him to a million years ago. Painfully beautiful, she’d say.  
There was not a blemish to be seen, save for a small, thin line intersecting the blue vein between his elbow and his wrist—a single mark away from perfection.

Theo watched him groggily until, finally, Boris glanced up at him. A thin, dark curl of hair tumbled into his eyes, and he smirked. “Take a picture. Lasts longer.”

Theo flushed pink, reaching for the back of his neck. “I was just—um.”

He was awkwardly quiet for a moment. “What’s that on your arm?”

Boris’s demeanor suddenly shifted. “Is nothing.” He wiped his dripping fingertips on his jeans and tugged down his sleeves, hiding his forearms from view again.

The change had been so quick that Theo listed his head to one shoulder in curious amusement. “Boris, c’mon.” He scooted closer, reaching out for his arm.

Boris yanked away sharply. He pulled his sleeves down further, clenching the hems in his fists.  
Theo, lurching forward drunkenly, lunged at him. Boris yelped, nearly toppling into the water. “Potter, don’t—“

“What is it,” Theo pleaded. He tackled Boris, groping for his arm. “What is it?” He dug his fingers into Boris’s side, and Boris shrieked with frustrated laughter. “Stop—it!”

Theo laughed as Boris attempted to wriggle away, dodging his wild punches and streams of colorful language. He finally managed to lock a hand around Boris’s wrist, yanking him forward triumphantly. What he didn’t catch the wild flash in Boris’s eyes, and in an instant, he received a heavy blow to the jaw.

Eyes smarting and face numb from the sudden pain, Theo dropped Boris’s arm in shock. He pressed a hand to his jaw. The metallic taste of blood was faint in his mouth.

Boris’s eyes were wide, as if he knew he’d gone too far. He reached forward, placing his hand on top of the one Theo had glued to his chin. “Potter, I am sorry, I should have—“

It was Theo’s turn to pull away. Gingerly, hesitantly, Boris withdrew his hand. He sighed quietly.

Out of the corner of his eye, Theo watched Boris’s long, dark lashes flutter as he stared down at the water’s surface. It was silent for a long moment.  
“It is from a long time ago,” Boris finally started. “When I was younger, more stupid.”

Theo looked at him, brow furrowed. “What?”  
Like a peace offering, Boris held out his left arm apologetically.

Theo’s hand fell from his jaw. 

Carefully, he reached out and put his hand in Boris’s, whose fingers were cold and clammy to the touch. Theo glanced up at him, their eyes locking for a moment before falling nervously away.

With his free hand, Theo rested his fingertips on the hem of Boris’s sleeve. He hesitated for a moment. He could feel Boris’s eyes watching his every move.

As delicately as he could, Theo pushed up Boris’s sleeve, revealing eggshell-white skin and a small pink scar.

Theo traced it gently with his finger. It was quite small, really, a thin rail mark barely enough to be noticeable, but Theo had an uneasy feeling that it meant much more than that. He looked up at Boris again, who had his eyes closed and an unreadable expression on his face. “Is from a long time ago,” he repeated. “God, feels like ages now.”

Theo paused. “Boris, I—I don’t understand...”

Boris glanced at him through the corner of his eye, a forlorn smile ghosting his lips. “Good.”

Theo’s heart sank as he realized that, yes, maybe he might understand after all.

“I was young, lonely. Did not know where I was headed. So, not long after my mother passed...” His eyes closed as he took a deep breath.  
“The bigger guys I knew then, they had strong stuff, scary stuff really. I think they must have known they were soon to be busted by cops, you know, otherwise they never would have given me the stuff for so cheap.”

He nodded down at his forearm. “Took a lot of drugs right to my heart. A lot, Potter. Is a wonder I am still here.” 

Theo knew the words weren’t aimed at him, but they stung more than the punch Boris had thrown. The gloomy honesty felt like a stone to his heart. He squeezed Boris’s hand, voice breaking, unsure of what to say. “Boris...”

Boris sighed tremblingly, tilting his head back at the stars. “I was so stupid. Figured I had nothing else. But I was wrong.” He gave Theo a lopsided grin. “Turns out I have got plenty.”

Theo swallowed, leaning against Boris’s shoulder. He looked at their still-entwined fingers, almost afraid to meet Boris’s eyes. “I’m...so sorry, Boris.”  
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Boris whispered gently.

Theo was still searching for the right words. How could he say that he understood, at least kind of, and tell him that he wasn’t alone, and that he would do just about anything to make things better, and that he wished he could hold Boris close until the rest of the cruel, horrible world melted away?

He glanced up. Boris was still watching him, a peculiar look in his eyes. When he noticed Theo was looking up at him, he blinked, bumping their shoulders together and shaking out his hair. “Is cold out here, Potter. How about a cigarette?”

Theo shrugged, suddenly nervous. “Whatever you want.”

Boris stood up, letting go of his hand and heading inside. Theo stayed at the edge of the pool a moment longer. He looked down at his hand. It looked thin and empty and kind of cold, all alone again.

A strange flutter swam under his ribs, and Theo realized that maybe—just maybe—Boris already knew what Theo had meant to say. He couldn’t decide whether that was a good thing or not.  
It was freezing outside, he decided. He should stop worrying about it and go inside. Or, at least, that’s what Boris would tell him.

Boris called out to him. “You coming?”

Theo nodded. He stood up, bouncing on the balls of his feet for a moment, before following Boris through the glass doors and into the warm, empty house.


End file.
